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The Unseen Wind


"It was apparent to us that the Allied bombing of WW2 represented an inadvertent environmental experiment on the ability of aircraft contrails to affect the energy coming into and out of the Earth at that location," (Read more)

I used to think birds were happy because they sang, songs tumbling out of their frames, flying with the unseen wind.

Vagabond lover, like contrails etching the sky, your temporary affections and breathless want, stumbling and loud beneath the wordless blue, leave me open-mouthed to the noise found in man’s collapse.

The bluebird doesn’t question why it sings, my kind's the only beast that does.

© 2011 by mark prime

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